An Old Yarn
by zrose
Summary: How does Belle, a young lonely girl lost in the world of her books become friends with  Aurelie, a girl who tries to be sensible, but gets carried away by her imagination? What follows is an odd friendship entwined in stories, thread, and possibly apples.


"Once upon a time, in a far away land, there was a beautiful young woman. She was so very sad, because she was forced to spend her days locked up in a tower without any doors. She could only view the world through a single window, and her only friends were the birds."

"Oh, poor thing!" murmured Cecile, clinging tighter to her poppet as she sat on the tree stump, trying not to fall off. The little darling was always so affected by these.

"So what happened?" bounced Jules. Although he constantly reminded everyone that he was much too old for stories, he was just as easily caught up in the magic as any of us, usually more so.

We were once again crowded in a circle around Belle, the newcomer in our quiet village, in the woods. The sunlight danced around our hair and clothes and the rushing water from the stream bubbled and gushed loudly like a carriage of horses being chased by a highwayman.

"Well, the girl was named Rapunzel,"

"What sort of a name is that?" I asked, careful not to miss a stitch in the knitting. Papa wouldn't like his breeches to be ruined on account of a story. It was a pain as it was to keep these meetings secret anyway. Honestly though, Rapunzel? She might have been beautiful, but no man would want to marry a girl named after a vegetable!

Belle wrinkled her nose in disapproval. She never liked it when anyone said anything bad about her books. She continued, but started reading at a slower pace, as if I didn't understand. "Her mother had desired some greens one night, when she was with child. She begged her husband to steal some from the neighbouring garden, which they did not realize belonged to a witch." All the children leaned forward, eager to hear what happened next.

"As punishment, the witch stole their child."

"Well, they shouldn't have taken her food. I know that my Papa would be furious if someone tried to steal from us," I interrupted.

"Ouai, he'd be out with his musket chasing them down the street," added Charles.

"Along with the rest of the village!" laughed Jules.

Belle sighed, "Yes, but the witch took their child. That's completely different. Anyway, Rapunzel had unusually thick, long hair. Every evening, the witch would cry from the bottom of the tower, 'Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your long hair!' and she did. A prince had seen this happen and decided to try his luck."

"So he tricked her?" I asked.

"Yes, but he was trying to save her." Belle had given up by this point and put the book down in an effort to defend it with her own words.

"Why couldn't she have cut off her hair, and used it as a ladder to escape on her own? Why did she need the prince to save her? And wouldn't her hair leave a trail for the witch to follow if they escape and she doesn't cut it?" The other children were looking at me strangely. Belle pouted.

"You aren't supposed to think about that, otherwise the story wouldn't happen!"

"What's the story supposed to teach anyway? Your father says your books have practical uses to them, I know because he was telling my Papa he was wrong for not sending me to school instead of managing the store. Does Rapunzel know how to do anything that can help her besides talk to birds and sing?"

"I suppose Cinderella is a girl true to your heart then," smiled Belle.

"Well, yes, she knows enough to be a good wife for anybody except a prince! She's going to have servants do all her work for her. Besides, Cinderella seems too passive, sitting around waiting for things to fall into her lap. Maybe that's how the prince sees it, since men always end up telling the story afterwards. I bet her stepmother kept her in a dungeon, chained to the wall and guarded by a wolf, no maybe one of those…what'd you call it? A Centaur, no a Cyclops. That's it. And there were a dozen others lining the hallways, their steps crunching on the stone floors, breathing bursts of fire every five minutes, just to make sure no one gets out alive. And they're in a maze too. A long, twisting maze with many paths and dead ends, so she'd have to find a way to keep track so she wouldn't get lost…"

"Like Ariadne." remarked Belle.

"Who?" I wish I knew what she was talking about when she mentioned all the stories she read, but assumed we already knew them.

"So how did Cinderella escape?" asked Cecile.

I laughed, "That, ma petite Cherie, will have to wait until bedtime." I felt bad for starting my own story during Belle's, but they would always pop up when I least expected them, like when I was supposed to take the clothes off the line or watch the stew, and they never stopped. Not that I minded though, I loved them as much as my brothers and sisters.

"You know, you could probably come up with better stories if you read more books," Belle stated casually.

"I'd have to learn to read them first," I laughed as I tried to herd the children back home. It was going to be dark soon, and Mama would have a fit if she came close to know what we did every Wednesday.

"I could teach you."

I told Jules to take the children back; I needed to speak with Belle alone. When their voices were well out of range, I nervously pursued the subject.

"Are you sure?" I whispered.

"Of course, we already have these stories every week, what's the harm in adding a few lessons as well."

"But what if Mama notices I'm gone?"

"We could make her think you're doing something she'd consider useful, like teaching me how to sew."

"Really, you never learned?"

She laughed, "No. My Papa's been trying to make my dresses with one of his new inventions."

"It shows."

"So, are you interested?" Her eyes gleamed at the thought of introducing someone to her world, and I couldn't help but be filled with excitement.

"Of course!"

"Then be over at my house Monday at midi. We can have lunch and then begin."

I wanted to dance as we parted ways. I couldn't help wondering what Belle was going to get out of this arrangement (whether she liked it or not, I would also teach her sewing. I would have to repay her somehow), but I brushed the thought aside as I trekked up the hill towards the village, my boots digging down into the mud.


End file.
